


Certain Possibilities

by Bow



Category: HEYER Georgette - Works, The Grand Sophy - Georgette Heyer
Genre: F/M, Multi, Yuletide 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 15:29:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17103203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bow/pseuds/Bow
Summary: The madcap adventures of Sophy and friends continue after the close of the novel.





	Certain Possibilities

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meretricula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meretricula/gifts).



Mr. Rivenhall led his love toward the stables, exerting no gentle pressure on her arm.

"Charles, a moment," said Sophy.

"We have not a moment to spare," he returned, not bothering to glance back at her.

"You need not fear an ambush from Lacy Manor," she said. "They are all of them far too occupied with their own circumstances to spare a thought for us." Sophy paused. "I'll grant you that Augustus is prone to wandering, but he'll not venture toward the stables in search of ink."

Sophy slowed her pace so that Charles, with a noise of frustration, turned abruptly to face her. He watched her swift, merry smile take over her face.

"What then, Sophy?" he asked her, feeling suddenly less impatient.

"Only, before you are occupied with the horses," she said, flushing, "I wanted--" and she tipped her face up to his. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, a bit roughly, breathing in the knowledge that she was his, that she would be his. By the time he released her, his temper had cooled somewhat.

"Was that all, then, ma'am?"

"Yes, thank you," replied Sophy, smoothing her curls under her hat. "It won't do to keep Sir Horace waiting, and by the time we return to London I shall certainly be famished."

When the horses were harnessed, Charles handed her into the curricle and settled Tina at her feet. He climbed up beside Sophy and took the reins, setting the pair in motion.

"Will you mind an easy pace?" he asked. "I can't spring 'em now: drove 'em to Ashtead too hard for that."

"I can foresee certain advantages to taking a leisurely drive with you," Sophy said thoughtfully, edging closer to him on the seat. "That is, so long as it does not begin to rain again."

" _Darling_ girl," he said, his tone somehow harsh and cheerful at once. "You shall certainly drive me past the edge of reason."

"Oh, I should hope your constitution is too strong for that."

"Well you _may_ hope, but don't be altogether certain of it! In a matter of months you've managed to turn my household--my life--entirely inside-out. When I think of all that has happened this day alone--"

"Charles," she said, softly, peering up at him. "Do you regret it?"

"No, he said with a sneer, "and that's the worst of it. You are a meddlesome, infuriating creature, but I cannot wish it otherwise."

"Such tender words, such charming manners--I am well pleased with my husband," replied Sophy, all sweetness.

\--

"And now Sophy has disappeared _totalmente_ ," exclaimed the former Marquesa, stirred from her customary languor into exasperation. She cast a dark look at her companions around the table at Lacy Manor. "So many comings and goings! One does not know what next will happen. It is far too fatiguing."

"An excellent dinner," said Sir Vincent, with an affected but commendable cheerfulness. "Gaston could not have managed better himself!"

"While I deplore the unsteadiness of character that leads thoughtless persons to miss their scheduled dinner engagements," said Miss Wraxton acidly, "under certain circumstances it may be considered for the best."

She partook of the repast sparingly, as though the food itself was morally suspect.

Across the table from Miss Wraxton, Augustus had allowed his dinner to cool on his plate, untouched. His eyes were far away, and he was muttering quietly about urns.

"An unexpected journey, a clandestine departure," he began, stirring from his reverie. "A beautiful house, bereft of its fairest ornaments."

"Didn't realize you were following the thread of conversation, Fawnhope," said Sir Vincent. "Very good."

"But the English with the cold," Sancia continued grimly, "he still remains, I believe. At least he will no longer have to eat the pig's cheek."

"Lord Bromford is extremely unwell," said Miss Wraxton severely. "He shan't be eating any of this cookery. I trust that you all will forgive me for taking my leave of you shortly so that I may return to his side to see how he fares."

"Gladly," said Sir Vincent, with all the sincerity in the world, draining another glass of burgundy and glancing about for Clavering.

"If music be the food of love," said Augustus, "why should it not be that food is the music of love?"

"I do not believe," said Miss Wraxton, "that is at all what Shakespeare meant by those lines."

"It don't make sense," agreed Sir Vincent.

"Poetry I will have, but not at the dinner table," admonished Sancia, attacking her own heaping plate with undiminished appetite.

"Most gallant lady," Augustus cried, "how could I but obey you?"

The ensuing silence was broken shortly by a gentle cheeping. Upon investigation, Sir Vincent discovered that a lone duckling had breached the barrier of the dining room, and he called out to Clavering to restore him speedily to his brethren.

" _Madre de dios!_ " Sancia called after the harassed servant. "Ducklings underfoot I will not have!"

\--

Upon their arrival in Berkeley Square, Sophy and Charles entered a house in a state of excitement, despite the late hour. Lady Ombersley was beside herself with pleasure and agitation, dazed already by what had happened since the afternoon. Cecilia's eyes shone; she was in understandably high spirits. Tina barked and swanned around their ankles until Charles, recognizing one element of the tableau he retained mastery of, ordered her to hush. Only Sir Horace was placid. He had settled back comfortably into his chair once again, or perhaps he had never left it.

"Sir Horace!" said Sophy, rushing forward to meet him. "Infamous of me not to have been here to welcome you when you arrived--forgive me! Tell me: is the regent now bound for Lisbon?"

"My little Sophy! You're looking well! No, I'm afraid not yet," said Sir Horace, shaking his head, "not yet. Complications. And so it will be back to Brazil with me before long."

"I must tell you," Sophy continued, "that I have shocking news--your Sancia has married Sir Vincent!"

Sir Horace shrugged. "Has she, now? Well, you must not regret it for an instant, my dear. I certainly don't."

"That is a relief, I must own! And I have something more to tell you still. Sir Horace, I am to be married as well--to my cousin Charles."

For some moments, the room went up in good-natured exclamations at Sophy's unexpected announcement.

"Are you? Must congratulate you both." Sir Horace turned to Charles. "Thought I knew how it would be when you flew up into the boughs this afternoon, my boy."

"Are we rid of Miss Wraxton?" cried Cecilia. "Thank heavens!"

"Cecilia!" said Charles imperiously, pushed to the very edge of his self-restraint.

"Of course we mustn't spread the news about yet," said Sophy thoughtfully. "We must wait, at least, until Lord Bromford is--"

"Quite enough _revelations_ for one evening, Sophy," spat Charles, unsure whether his mother's nerves could withstand tidings of yet another probable engagement.

"Oh, Charles!" cried Lady Ombersley. "I must admit that I do not perfectly understand what has transpired, but I will be very glad to have Sophy as a daughter. I wish you will refrain from quarreling with her again, though. The household quite loses its serenity."

" _I_ refrain from quarreling with Sophy," began Charles wrathfully, "for all the world as though--"

"Now, don't get yourself into a taking, my boy," said Sir Horace. "Sophy can look after herself. Always has. Daresay she'll do her cousin some good in the end, Lizzie."

"Indebted to you for saying so, sir," said Charles, with a grimace strongly indicating that he was keeping an admirable guard on his tongue.

"Not at all," said Sir Horace. "High time my little Sophy was married. Not so little anymore, eh?"

Lady Ombersley sighed. "What a day it has been! One can scarcely comprehend it all, so much has happened. My brother returned from Brazil just this afternoon, and it seems ages ago! Cecilia and Charlbury engaged at last! Charlbury shot! And now--"

"Charlbury _shot_?" hissed Charles. His eyes flicked to Sophy, his countenance implying an unaccountable belief that his newly affianced wife had played some role in these proceedings.

" _Later_ , wretch," she hissed back, flushing.

"Very well! We'll discuss the matter later," he said, pulling her a bit to the side, speaking close to her ear. "Though you know I am not patient. Devil! First you lure the Marquesa to a sordid pile and desert her there with a collection of infamous houseguests, and now I learn you have almost certainly caused Charlbury to be injured--I can see I will do well to be on my guard against you."

"Odious man! To speak so, when you _know_ Charlbury's interest has been the first object for me since I met him at the ball! Lacy Manor is not a sordid pile, and what's more, by the time you arrived to rescue my reputation, I had already begun to suspect that Sancia might not be quite so put out as I had first imagined," she said demurely.

"What the deuce do you mean by that? That she _likes_ having those dreadful persons around her?"

"I must admit that not _all_ those assembled at Lacy Manor have the power to please," said Sophy evenly. "But I am beginning to see certain possibilities more clearly."

\--

"How vexing is this house!" Sancia lay in bed propped up against the cushions, majestic in repose. "How fatiguing was this day! It was not, I must say, at all _convenientemente_."

Sir Vincent hovered above her, planting a series of kisses in a line from her wrist to her shoulder.

He heard footsteps in the hall outside, dying away as they approached the door of the bedroom. "Clavering?" he said, pausing in his ministrations.

The door sprung open, and in wandered Augustus. Sir Vincent released his wife's hand.

"Ink," muttered Augustus, his eyes searching the room. "Alas I have misplaced the ink, and how precious is ink to one such as I! Lowly fluid, transmuted by noble thoughts into--"

"I say, Fawnhope, _not_ now," said Sir Vincent. "This is not the moment to go traipsing about searching for ink. Besides, you couldn't have left it in here."

"The poet," said Sancia to her husband, "has the face of the angel, but the mind, I think, of an _imbécil_."

"Fair lady," said the poet in question, beaming at Sancia. "Of a comely countenance and grace."

"Fawnhope, you talk altogether too much," said Sir Vincent.

" _Querido_ ," said Sancia, sighing languidly, "there is a way I know to solve this problem of talking too much." A look passed between them.

"Right you are, my love," said Sir Vincent. He paused. "Augustus, would you like to climb up into the bed with us? Should you like to--"

"Ah! The loveliest pair that ever since in love's embraces met," said Augustus, obliging him with alacrity. He sat, expectantly, on his knees until Sir Vincent leaned forward and kissed him into silence.

Sancia looked benignantly upon the two of them and yawned, nestling deeper into the pillows. They tumbled backward onto the bed at her side. She smiled.

"Poetry in the bedroom," she said, "I will have."

**Author's Note:**

> Augustus quotes from Paradise Lost, Shakespeare, and "The Spanish Lady's Love" (all as in the novel). Thanks for reading!


End file.
